


Let it Be

by lucifersfavoritechild



Series: Ironstrange Fics [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers, But mostly fluff, Divorce, Endgame IronStrange, Extra-marital affairs, Fluff, Little bit of angst, M/M, No character bashing, Strangefamily, Super Supreme Strange Family, Superfamily, Superfamily 2.0, Superfamily to Strangefamily, Supremefamily, background stucky, second love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-13 16:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14752223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/pseuds/lucifersfavoritechild
Summary: While dealing with his son's car accident and a rapidly-dissolving marriage, Tony is drawn to Peter's surgeon, Dr. Stephen Strange.





	1. Expectations

_“I miss ya’, I love ya’, so it's really hard to see_

_We just gotta let it be”_

— Hayley Kiyoko, “Let it Be”

* * *

Tony ran into the hospital, shoving his way past a group of people standing in the way of the front desk. “Excuse me,” he said, trying to keep cool. “I need to find my son.”

The receptionist looks up at him. “Sir, I need to know your name?”

Tony wants to scream as the receptionist asks him a series of questions, but eventually she said, “Your son is in surgery right now.”

“Yeah, I fucking got that,” Tony said, resisting the urge to shout.

“Well, it will probably be a few hours before you can see him—”

“How long exactly?”

She frowned. “I’m not certain. You’ll have to stay in the waiting room until someone updates us.”

Tony nodded almost mechanically, turning and making his way to the waiting area. He wanted to scream, to tear the building apart, but that wouldn’t help Peter. He sat down, tapping his hands along a table nervously. After a while, he took out his phone. It took three tries for his shaking hands to get the password right. He scrolled through his contacts and picked one, holding the phone to his ear.

The phone ringed four times before someone picked up. “ _Tony? What the hell? Why are you calling me at—_ ” Rhodey paused, “ _—three am?_ ”

Tony closed his eyes, pressing a hand against his eyelids. “Peter was in a car accident.”

It took a few seconds for Rhodey to say, “ _Fuck. Tony, where are you? I’ll be there, just give me—_ ”

“No, it’s okay, it’s— I don’t fucking know. Look, I’m at the Metro-General Hospital. Peter’s here, he’s in surgery. God, I don’t even fucking know what happened really. It’s just . . . can you call Steve for me?”

“ _Tony—_ ”

“I know, I know I should do it, it’s just—” he laughed hysterically. “I can’t do it right now. I can’t talk to him, I just—”

“ _Don’t worry about_ ,” Rhodey said. “ _I’ll handle it, you just worry about Peter, okay?_ ”

Tony laughed, trying not to burst into tears. “Don’t remind me.”

“ _Shit, right. Sorry, I’ll just— I’ll call Steve._ ”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

“ _Don’t even worry about it. Call me when you find out anything, okay?_ ”

“I will.” They said their goodbyes and hang up. Hours passed. He should probably have gone to sleep at some point, but he kept thinking, _What if they come out while I’m asleep?_ He stayed awake, messing around on his phone and glancing at the clock every few seconds.

_Four am._

Rhodey called him and said he couldn’t get ahold of Steve.

_Five am._

Ned Leeds called him, frantically asking what happened to Peter. He had left Ned’s house to pick up his computer from home, and never gone back. Tony explained what happened to Peter and assured Ned that no, it wasn’t his fault. It was easy to say since Tony already couldn’t shake the feeling that it was _his_ fault.

_Six am._

Peter should have been waking up and getting ready for school.

_Seven am._

He called Pepper and told her what was going on. She was mad at first when he told her he wouldn’t be coming in, but immediately turned worried and comforting when he explained what was going on. She offered to join him at the hospital, but he needed her there. It took some convincing, but he convinced her to go in.

Tony glanced at the clock. _Seven thirty._ Where the hell was Steve? What was wrong with his phone? Or maybe he just didn’t want to answer Rhodey. Tony scowled before shaking his head. No, Steve wouldn’t ignore him. He would know it was important; Rhodey wouldn’t call him otherwise. The two weren’t even friends, really. Not since—

Someone was standing in front of them, clearing their throat. “Mister Stark,” the man said. He was tall and pale, wearing clean, dark blue scrubs. “My name is Dr. Strange. Can you come with me?”

Tony looked up at him, nodding shakily. “Yeah. Yeah, I can—” He cut himself off and stood up. The doctor led him to an empty nearby room, closing the door behind them. Tony watched him anxiously. “How’s my son?”

The doctor smiled. “He’s alright. He’s in recovery now. I’m not sure if anyone’s told you what happened exactly, but the car that drove into him only hit the passenger’s side, so your son’s injuries were fairly minor, all things considered. There was, however, some nerve damage to his right arm and leg, so he’ll have to stay in the hospital for about four to eight weeks.”

Tony felt like he was going to cry. Ten minutes ago, he’d been half-certain that his son would die. Now he knew that he was going to be okay.

Without thinking, Tony threw his arms around the doctor, hugging him. Dr. Strange stumbled a bit, but made no effort to stop him, even setting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Tony drew back after a minute, breathing sharply. “I’m sorry, I’m just. . .” He laughed, sounding half-hysterical, even to his own ears. “I’m just emotional.”

Dr. Strange smiled. He was a handsome man, with dark hair except for a line of gray at each of his temples, and pale eyes. “It’s alright. It happens to a lot of people. Do you want to see Peter now?”

Tony nodded. “Yes, please, that would . . . that would be great.”

Dr. Strange led him to the recovery area where Peter was staying for the time being. Tony sucked in a breath. Peter looked limp and lifeless, more like a doll than a person. His skin was pale and waxy, almost green in places. He was connected to a complex series of tubes, IVs, and monitors. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be breathing more-or-less okay.

“I know that he doesn’t look well now,” the doctor said, standing near the door. “But given a few days of recovery, he should be fine.”

“Really?” It took Tony a moment to recognize the voice — it had been days since he’d heard it in person — but once he did, he froze.

_Steve._

“And you are?” Dr. Strange asked, looking him up and down.

Steve looked around. His eyes fell on Peter, and his jaw tightened. He recovered quickly though, saying, “I’m Steve Rogers, I’m Peter’s father — er, other father.”

“Oh. Well, I’m Dr. Strange, I’m your son’s surgeon.” He shook Steve’s hand. “Peter’s condition is stable for the time being. He’s sleeping now, but you’re both welcome to stay until visiting hours are over.”

Steve let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, that’s . . . that’s great.” He looked at Tony. “Do you mind if we have some time alone?”

“Of course.” The doctor walked over to the door. “If Peter needs anything, you should ring for a nurse. Visiting hours end at nine.” With that, he left.

Tony and Steve stood on either side of Peter’s bed, looking down at their son. After a moment, Tony asked him in a cold voice, “What took you so long?”

Steve sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. “I know, I know, my phone was dead. As soon as I turned it on, I saw I had fifteen calls from Rhodey. He told me what happened. I swear, I got here as fast as I could.” He fidgeted awkwardly. “How’ve you been?”

Tony looked up at him. His hands tightened around the bars of the hospital bed. “Really? You’re asking me now?”

Steve shrugged. He seemed to be trying to make himself look smaller, but didn’t succeed. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I was just wondering—”

“Ever remember _why_ you haven’t seen me lately, by any chance?” Tony asked scathingly. “How is Barnes, by the way?”

Steve flinched. “Can we not do this? Please? I don’t want to argue now.”

Tony wanted to yell at him that it was not _his_ fault that they were arguing, that they hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks, that Peter was upset with both of them. But Steve had a point, for once. Peter needed them, and that mattered more than anything else. “Fine.”

They watched over Peter in silence.


	2. Cliffs Edge

Peter was in and out of consciousness for the rest of the day. A group of his friends — Ned, Liz, and MJ — visited him as soon as school ended. Ned was an absolute wreck. His voice kept cracking as he apologized again and again for letting Peter leave, for not going with him.

Tony couldn’t take it. He set his hands on Ned’s shoulders, looked him in the eyes, and said, “ _This was not your fault._ Okay? This was not your fault, or my fault, or Peter’s fault. This was the fault of the jackass that drove into him. I’m not mad at you. Peter’s not going to be mad at you. No one is mad at you.”

Ned sniffed. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. I . . . I feel better now.”

Tony smiled and patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

The teens didn’t stay long. There wasn’t much for them to do with Peter still out of it, and they had schoolwork to work on.

Liz and MJ left without fanfare. Liz left a bouquet of flowers with a get well card, but Tony thought Peter would like MJ’s drawing of him with a metal arm and leg better.

Ned, though, had a moment where he looked at Tony and Steve and muttered something while his cheeks flushed patchily. He avoided Steve’s eyes.

It was at that point that it dawned on Tony that Peter had told his friends about everything that had been happening between them. His face burned, but he couldn’t blame Peter. Really, it was his own fault he hadn’t realized. Things were tense in the Stark-Rogers household — especially since it had been more-or-less the _Stark_ house for the past few months. Peter barely spoke to him, although he seemed to place the lion’s share of blame for the separation on Steve. But he’d never known grief in his life, not since he was adopted; he didn’t know what to do, how to talk to them about what he was feeling.

Tony was snapped out of his thoughts when someone knocked on the door. Rhodey poked his head in. “Hey. Mind if I come in?”

Tony smiled tiredly. “Come on in.”

Rhodey walked quietly into the room. He gave Steve a cold look. “Rogers.”

Steve tried for a smile. “Hey, James.”

Rhodey ignored him and joined Tony next to Peter. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s okay. Been in and out of consciousness all day, but he hasn’t really been lucid yet.”

Rhodey nodded. After they made awkward small talk for a few minutes, Pepper arrived. She smiled sadly at them. “Hey Tony.” She looked down at Peter. “How’s my favorite nephew?”

“He’s . . .” Tony looked at Peter’s shifting body, “waking up.” He smiled down at Peter. “Hey,” he said softly. “How’re you feeling?”

Peter groaned. “Shitty.”

“Language,” Steve chided. Tony couldn’t resist a chuckle.

Peter looked around with half-closed eyes. “Where are we?”

“We’re at the Metro-General hospital, kid. You were in a car accident.”

Peter’s head rolled to look at him. “I was?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. Scared the crap out of us, but everyone was okay.”

“I don’t feel okay.”

“No shit, you got into a car accident and had to have surgery done to half your body.” His eyes softened when Peter looked at him with pitiable puppy eyes. “But you’re doing fine now. Doctor said you’d be able to leave in about four to eight weeks.”

“But what about school . . .” Peter asked, yawning and closing his eyes. Before anyone could answer him, he was asleep.

Steve chuckled. “Just like him to be worried about school at a time like this.”

Tony smiled. “Yeah.” For a moment, things felt almost normal. Then Steve ducked his head, and Tony felt himself scowl at him, and he realized that _that_ was their new normal.

* * *

Peter was already awake the next morning. Steve was already with him, smiling as he talked to Peter. They both looked up when he entered the room. Peter grinned. “Dad!”

Tony smiled, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from him. “Hey, kiddo.”

He leaned down to kiss Peter’s forehead. “Dad. . .” Peter groaned, rubbing his head.

Tony laughed. “Good to see you’re feeling better.” He cleared his throat, the small falling from his face. “Steve, good to see you again.”

“You too, Tony.”

Peter looked between them and sighed, seeming deflated. “Are you two going to fight?”

“No,” Tony said quickly. “Of course not.”

“We’re here for you, Peter,” Steve added.

Peter wasn’t convinced. Looking down at his hands, he asked in a quiet voice, “Are you going to get divorced?”

“No,” Steve said, too quickly. “Right, Tony?”

They both looked at him. After a few moments, he said, “I don’t know.”

Immediately, Peter and Steve started to protest, but Tony spoke above them. “I don’t know! I don’t know how I feel! I . . .” He looked at Steve. “You hurt me.”

Steve winced. “I didn’t mean to.”

Tony laughed harshly. “You know, I think that makes it worse. You didn’t mean to hurt me. You weren’t thinking about me at all.”

Steve’s eyes softened. “Tony,” he said, reaching out to his husband.

Tony jerked back. “ _No._ I can’t . . . I can’t do this right now.” He turned his back to them and walked out of the room. He stumbled through the hallway, feeling his heart pound. _No . . . not now, not here . . ._ He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his chest would burst from the force of his heartbeats . . .

“Mr. Stark? Are you alright?”

Tony looked up, belatedly realizing that he’d slid down the wall to the floor. Doctor Strange was standing above him, seeming genuinely worried. “I . . . I can’t . . .” He knocked his head against the wall. “Panic  . . . attack . . .”

The doctor knelt in front of him, less than a foot away from his face. He held out his hand. “Can you follow me, Mr. Stark? Please? I want to help you.”

Tony stared at him. The doctor’s voice was calm and reassuring. Shaking, Tony took his hand.

The doctor helped him stand and silently led him to an empty room a few feet away. Tony fell into a chair, holding a hand over his mouth. In front of him, Doctor Strange was kneeling, holding his hands up while he spoke. “Breathe, Mr. Stark. I know it’s difficult; your brain is telling you that something’s wrong, and your body is listening to it, but nothing is happening. The situation is under control. Deep breaths. You’re alright, you’re going to be alright.”

After what felt like hours, Tony’s breathing and heart rate started to return to normal. As soon as he could move without shaking, he stood up, making Dr. Strange take a step back. He smiled awkwardly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . you shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

The corner of Strange’s mouth quirked as though in amusement. “I’m a doctor. I could hardly just leave you in the hallway.”

Tony let out a choked laugh. “Right, right.”

They stood, looking at each other in awkward silence. Looking at him up close, Tony could see that his eyes were a strange mixture of blue and green. “Thank you,” Tony said suddenly. “For . . . you know.”

The doctor smiled, more genuinely this time. “It was no problem. And please, call me Stephen.”

Tony smiled in return, feeling his pulse change. This time, he knew it wasn’t a panic attack. “Alright, Stephen. I guess I’m Tony then.”

“Tony,” Stephen said, rolling the name along his tongue, testing it. “I like it.” Before Tony could respond, the doctor said, “If you don’t mind my asking, what caused you to have a panic attack?”

Immediately, Tony froze. He could feel his skin getting warm. “Um, I should probably be getting back to Peter. I don’t want him to worry, you know. . .”

Stephen nodded, giving Tony a gentle, understanding look. “You’re probably right. I was actually on my way to check on Peter when I saw you.”

“Oh. Alright, then, let’s . . . go.”

They walked back in silence.

* * *

“I’ll see you after work tomorrow, okay, Pete?”

Peter nodded sullenly, messing with his blanket. He was still upset about what had happened earlier, and wasn’t speaking to him. Tony sighed and said. “I’ll see if I can bring you some books to read. Does that sound good?”

Same nod. Tony just rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of his hair. He sighed when he realized Steve was following him out.

“Tony,” Steve said, jogging to keep up with him. “Tony!”

Tony turned on his heel, stopping Steve in his tracks. “What? What do you want now?”

Steve looked at him, big blue eyes down in a sad, guilty expression, similar to a puppy. It didn’t work. “I just thought we should. . .”

He trailed off, looking at someone who was walking down the hallway. Stephen slowed when he saw them. He was dressed casually, his phone in hand. “Oh. Hello, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stark.” He seemed infinitely more formal whenever Steve was around than otherwise. “Are you two leaving?”

“Yeah, actually. Just said goodnight to Peter. Mind if I walk with you?” Before he could answer, Tony fell into stride with Stephen, leaving Steve behind.

The doctor looked at him curiously. “You two aren’t leaving together?”

“No, we’re not really, uh, staying at the same house right now.”

“Oh.” Before long, they’d made it to the hospital’s exit. Tony started to say goodbye when Stephen stopped him and asked, “Would you like to get some coffee? I know it’s late, but I’m not tired and I could use the company.”

Tony automatically started to decline before stopping himself. Why shouldn’t he? There was nothing wrong with that. It was just coffee between friends. And he didn’t really want to go home to an empty house again. “Yeah. Why not?”

Tony followed behind Stephen’s car to the nearest coffee shop. It was small and almost completely empty, but the sweet aroma of coffee was a welcome change from the hospital’s sterility.

“What do you want?” Stephen asked, taking out his wallet. “My treat.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I _want_ to,” he insisted. “Now, what do you want?”

Maybe he just missed being treated, or maybe it was something to do with Stephen’s easy, charming smile, but he gave in immediately and let the doctor buy him a latte.

After they got their drinks — Stephen’s was an unnecessarily complicated order that Tony stopped listening to half way in — they went back outside and stood against Tony’s car. It was surprisingly warm for an October night. They actually didn’t speak for a while, content to sip at their drinks in silence. Then Stephen said, “You never did tell me what happened earlier. Is it too personal, or. . .”

Tony gulped, losing his interest in the coffee. “It was the stupidest thing, I swear. I was talking to Steve, and it was like all the stress of the past few months came crashing down on me at once, and I just . . . couldn’t take it.”

Stephen made a thoughtful noise. “Well, I’m glad I was there to help.” He paused before asking, “Is there something . . . going on between you and your husband?”

Tony sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. Stephen started to backtrack, saying, “I’m sorry, that’s not really my place—”

“No, it’s fine. I just— it’s hard to talk about sometimes.” He stared down into his coffee cup. It was starting to get cold. “We’ve been . . . separated for a while now. We were having problems for the past couple of years, but they got really bad the past year. But I didn’t think . . .” He was shaking, but he didn’t think it was the start of another panic attack. Those usually started with his heart beating faster. “I never thought he’d cheat on me.”

He avoided Stephen’s eyes, fearing . . . something. Pity? Amusement? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t really expect Stephen to say, “Well, your husband sounds like an asshole if you ask me.” Then he returned to his drink.

Tony couldn’t help it — he laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to spill his coffee. “I’m sorry, it’s just— you’re so _casual_ about it. Everyone else has been so dramatic and serious, and it’s just— it’s nice.”

Stephen smiled over his cup. “Well, I’m glad I could make you laugh about it.”

Tony smiled back at him. And if he felt something in his stomach flutter, then that was no one’s business but his own.


	3. Gatekeeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was on fire writing this chapter, and I think you'll see why once you get to the end. Also, thank you for all your lovely comments! I feed off validation.

Meeting up for coffee after the hospital became something of a ritual for them. Stephen would tell him about his latest patients — usually how stupid they were — and Tony would talk about his latest plans and inventions for S.I. He was surprised by how interested the doctor was in his work. Steve was never _disinterested_ , per say, but he never cared enough to learn about it beyond the surface. Stephen wasn’t a mechanic by any means, but he had a thirst for knowledge to match Tony’s, and seemed completely transfixed whenever Tony talked about it.

It was almost the end of October. Peter would be able to leave soon, though not in time for Halloween (he didn’t stop pouting for an hour when he found _that_ out). Tony was almost disappointed. It had been nice to have someone to talk to who was disconnected from Steve entirely; even Pepper and Rhodey were difficult to talk to sometimes. They prodded and asked him if he needed _anything_ at all, if they should talk to Steve for him, if Peter was okay, if _he_ was okay. As far as Stephen was concerned, as soon as they left the hospital, Steve didn’t exist.

The good doctor was already with Peter when Tony made it to the hospital. Tony smiled and held up a bag. “Brought dinner.” He frowned at the pile of books and paper that surrounded Peter. “What are you doing?”

“Ned brought me notes and homework from school so I could stay caught up,” Peter explained, looking up from whatever he was working on.

Tony shook his head. “That traitor.” He started to hand Peter the McDonald’s bag, but then he stopped and looked at Stephen. “Is he good to have this? ‘Cuz otherwise, I’m going to have to eat it all, and I don’t know if my heart can take it.”

Stephen smiled his ‘amused’ smile — one corner of his mouth upturned, crinkles around his eyes. “He should be fine. Just don’t give him too much fat.”

Tony looked back to Peter. “Alright son, you heard Dr. Weird. Enjoy.”

“Yes!” Peter took the bag. “Did you get chicken nuggets?”

“Do I know my son? Don’t ask stupid questions, Peter. It’s not _done_.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Tony was about to sit down when a new voice said, “Peter, you don’t need to be eating that.”

Tony groaned and rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Steve? He’s a kid, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Tony, he’s already laying in that bed all day, now you want to give him junk food?”

“It’s fine, dad,” Peter said, seeming more tired than before. “I’ve been doing my exercises and walking around the hospital. And besides, Dr. Strange said it was okay.”

“I did say that,” Stephen said. “And Peter’s probably going to be leaving soon, so as long as he doesn’t make a habit of it, there’s no harm done.” Stephen checked the clock. “I should be getting back to the clinic. I just wanted to check on Peter one last time.” He smiled at them. “Mr. Stark, Mr. Rogers.” As he left, his hand brushed against Tony’s.

As soon as the doctor was gone, the tension in the air rose. Steve, Tony, and Peter all looked at each other, each of them more uncomfortable than the last.

Peter looked at Tony. “Dad, can you sit down, please? There’s something I want to talk to you about?”

Tony tried for a smile. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“C’mon dad, I’m serious.”

Tony sighed and took the seat next to Peter. “Fine, fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Peter glanced at Steve. The man smiled encouragingly, and Peter nodded before turning back to Tony with new confidence. “Dad and I were talking, and he agreed to go to marriage counseling if you did too.”

Tony stared at them. “I don’t know about that, Pete . . .” It wasn’t even that he didn’t think it would help. He just didn’t want to _try_ anymore. They tried the year before, and things only got worse. He didn’t know if there even _was_ anything left to fix — or if it was worth fixing.  

Peter reached out and grabbed his hand urgently. “ _Please_ , dad. I want things to go back to how they were. I miss the way it used to be. I miss our family.” He looked up at Tony with wide eyes. “ _Please._ ”

Finally, Tony sighed, feeling his shoulders droop. “Okay. I’ll go. For _you_.” Steve gave him a _look_ , but he ignored it.

Peter grinned and surged up out of his bed, throwing his arms around Tony in a hug. “Thank you.”

* * *

Stephen peered at him over his coffee cup. “Something’s wrong. What happened?”

Tony groaned. “You’re too good at that. Stop.”

“No. What’s wrong?”

Rolling his eyes, Tony explained, “Peter got me to agree to go to marriage counseling with Steve.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow. _How does he look so hot when he does that?_ “You don’t sound pleased.”

“Trust me, I’m not. Every time Steve and I try to have a conversation for more than ten minutes, it turns into a shouting match.”

“How long has it been like that?” Stephen asked curiously. _It’s not fair, really. Those gloves with that scarf . . . it’s just too much sex appeal._

Tony shrugged. “Since Barnes, really. God, I can’t _believe_ that asshole was one of our groomsmen. But I’m not sure how much better it was before . . . _that_. We didn’t really shout, but it’s kind of weird to realize you haven’t said a word to your spouse for three days straight.”

“Doesn’t sound fun.”

“Eh, you get used to it. You get used to a lot of things.” _Like the pile of issues you have getting bigger and bigger until you can’t ignore it, but no longer care enough to actually fix it. That’s a fun thing to get used to._ He went to take a sip from his cup, but found that it was empty. After a moment, he realized that Stephen hadn’t drunk any of his in a few minutes either.

Tony looked at his cup as though it had personally offended him before saying, “Guess that’s my cue to go . . .”

“Or you could come home with me,” Stephen said, refusing to acknowledge the accidental ( _Was it accidental?_ ) innuendo. “I have coffee at my apartment. Although I think that at this hour, tea might be better. We could talk more there, if you want.”

He considered it. There was nothing wrong with talking, right? No one could fault him for wanting that, especially with everything that was happening with Steve and Peter. He shrugged and said, “Sure. Why not?”

Stephen’s apartment was closeby in Manhattan — much more city-centered than Steve and Tony’s house in the Queens suburbs. It was incredibly high-end, with a beautiful view of the city, modern furniture, and a very open floor plan. Looking around, Tony said, “You know, this reminds me of the place I used to live in before we adopted Peter.”

“Really?” Stephen asked, taking off his coat.

“Yeah. Steve insisted we head to the suburbs as soon as we did. I drew the line at leaving New York, though. To be honest, I think he was kind of relieved. New York’s his home too, y’know.”

“I didn’t, actually.” Stephen made his way to the kitchen and took out some glass mugs. “Mr. Rogers is . . . less open than you. What kind of tea do you want? I have oolong, green tea, Earl Grey, black . . .”

“Earl Grey is fine.”

As Stephen prepared the tea, he kept asking questions. “When did you adopt Peter?”

“When he was about a year old.” _Eleven months, eight days, three hours, and forty-two minutes._ “His parents died in a car crash, horribly enough. His aunt and uncle wanted to take him in, but they couldn’t afford to, and he didn’t have any other family to go to. They live in New York, so he still gets to see them a lot, though. They’re nice. Good people.”

“They sound nice.” He turned on the electric kettle, leaning back against a counter as the water heated. “Peter’s about eighteen now, right?”

Tony smiled proudly. “He is. Set to graduate with honors.”

“That’s quite an achievement.” Stephen was using his genuine small now — the one that reached his whole face, making him seem kind and approachable.

The water was already steaming, so the doctor turned it off and started to pour that water. As he did, Tony kept talking. “I know. He’s having a bit of trouble being out of school for so long, but he’s coping.” Tony took the offered cup with a quiet ‘thanks’. “Actually, I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Peter. I know it’s your job and all, but still. It means a lot to me.” He watched Stephen as he sipped at the coffee. Every move the doctor made was effortlessly graceful, even the way he stirred his tea. Tony was certain he could just watch him move for hours.

Stephen smiled. “It’s almost funny. I actually wasn’t there for him this afternoon. Peter’s made excellent progress, he doesn’t really _need_ to be checked on twice a day anymore. But I was hoping to see you.”

Tony stared at him, feeling his grip on the cup weaken. “Really?”

Stephen nodded. “Yes. I know it’s selfish of me, but I can’t help it. I like seeing you, Tony. I like you.”

Tony didn’t have time to wonder how they’d gotten so close, or when they’d set their cups down, or even if Stephen’s eyes had _always_ been that intense, because then his mouth was on Tony’s, and _oh_ , who knew kissing could be like that? So new, yet so familiar at the same time. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling Stephen closer, from running his hands through his soft hair and moaning into his mouth. Then Stephen said _Tony_ , low and breathy, and that was _not_ Steve’s voice, fuck, what the fuck was he doing—

He pushed Stephen away, pushed _himself_ away from him, and stood back, breathing harshly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just— fuck, I can’t do this.”

Tony started to leave, he was almost out, he even opened the door. Then Stephen spoke, freezing him in his tracks. “Sometimes people make mistakes, Tony. I don’t think this is one of those times.”

For a moment, all Tony could do was stare into the empty hallway. Then, slowly, he closed the door.


	4. Mercy

Tony groaned, rolling over. He didn’t want to get up — his body felt pleasantly limp and the bed was almost irresistibly soft — but he could smell coffee, and someone was nudging at his shoulder. He opened his eyes wearily. Stephen was standing over him, already dressed with a mug in each hand. “Morning.” He handed Tony a mug before settling down beside him on the bed.

Tony held the cup gingerly. “Thanks.” He looked around the room. It was as nice as the rest of the house, but not very ‘homey’, so to speak. “What time is it?”

“Too fucking early. So around six.”

“Mhm. I should be getting home. I’m supposed to be at work at seven thirty.”

“I have to be at the hospital at seven.”

“It’s not a competition.”

Stephen chuckled. “Do you want to use the shower before you go?”

“No, I’m— I’m good.” He probably should have — he was sticky and covered in dried sweat — but he sincerely doubted it was a good idea to stay any longer. “I should probably get going.”

Stephen looked at him, drawing back a bit. “Alright. I’ll see you out.” He left Tony alone to get dressed. Tony pulled his clothes on slowly. They were rumpled, but otherwise clean. He kept expecting to feel something — guilt, maybe — but he didn’t. If anything he felt . . . happy. Excited. Almost like when he first met . . .

Stephen knocked on the door. “Are you ready to go?”

Tony finished putting on his shoes and opened the door. He smiled at Stephen. “Let’s go.”

They walked to the parking lot together. Once they made it to Tony’s car, Stephen asked, “Will you be at the hospital today?”

Tony smiled. “I’ll see you there.” There was a sort of awkward air around them. Tony wanted to go in for a kiss, but instead he said, “Can I see your phone for a second?”

Stephen arched an eyebrow and passed his phone over. Tony pulled up his contacts and added his number before handing it back. “There. No you can call me if you want.” There. Nothing pushy or personal about that—

Stephen grabbed his arm and pulled him towards him, pressing their mouths together. The kiss was short, but purposeful, almost bruising. When they pulled apart, Stephen smiled at him. “I’ll see you later, Tony.” Then he turned and went back inside.

* * *

Tony smiled as he slipped into the hospital room. “Hey Peter.” He looked at Stephen, who was looking over Peter’s shoulder as he worked on homework. “You’re not bothering the good doctor, are you?”

Peter looked up at him. “Don’t worry dad, Dr. Strange was just helping me with my bio homework.”

Stephen smiled at Tony. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stark. Your son’s very smart.”

“I know,” Tony said proudly. “He’ll have his pick of schools to go to next year.”

Peter rolled his eyes, explaining, "Dad wants me to go to MIT like him."

"Oh, well, that's an excellent school." Stephen leaned in next to Peter and stage-whispered, "Columbia's better, though."

"Hey, don't go filling his head with lies,” Tony said. “Or at least wait until I’m out of the room."

Stephen smiled. “Of course.” He straightened. “I should be going. Although, if I could speak to you outside for a moment, Mr. Stark?”

Peter looked up at them curiously, but Stephen said, “Don’t worry Peter, it doesn’t have to do with you.”

And apparently Peter was the most innocent eighteen-year-old ever, because he wasn’t at all suspicious. Tony and Stephen stood a few feet outside Peter’s door. After a moment, Stephen quietly said, “You left this at my apartment.” He took Tony’s hand, allowing his own to uncurl and drop something into Tony’s palm.

Tony’s hand closed around the object. He recognized it immediately from the shape and the inscription along the inside — _Together._

“Thanks,” Tony whispered, slipping the ring on. Suddenly he froze, feeling someone’s eyes burning into his back. He turned around. “Steve.”

His husband was staring at him with empty blue eyes. “Hey, Tony.” He set his eyes on Stephen. “Dr. Strange.”

“Mr. Rogers,” Stephen said amicably. “I was just helping Tony after his ring slipped off.” He pretended to check the time. “I have to go, I need to finish my rounds, but I’ll see you both tomorrow. Tell Peter I said goodnight, please.”

“Yeah, I . . . I will,” Tony said, his voice sounding weak even to him.  

Stephen clearly wanted to say something else, but didn’t dare with Steve there. He nodded goodbye to each of them and left down the hall.

Tony and Steve stared at each other in silence.

* * *

Ms. Williams, a woman in her thirties with her hair in a bun and a simple engagement ring on her hand, looked down at her clipboard then up at them. “Would either of you like to start first?”

“Where do we start?” Tony asked, chin in hand.

“Well, I suggest you start with each of you saying one thing that you think is wrong with your marriage.”

“Just one? We can’t make a list?” Tony asked, only half-sarcastic.

“I’ve found that makes people . . . defensive.”

“Alright,” Tony said dully. “I’ll start. Infidelity — on both sides.”

Ms. Williams nodded. “Infidelity often stems from dissatisfaction with one’s partner, an inability to fulfill one another’s needs, emotional and otherwise. Steve, do you have anything to say?”

Steve sighed. “Conflicting personalities.”

“Often an issue. Would you two say that these are your main problems?”

Tony shrugged. “Probably. Though I think we should keep to the second one for now.” He smiled humorlessly. “Wouldn’t want the first day to end badly.”

Steve scowled, but nodded. Ms. Williams said, “How would you like to discuss that?”

“Well,” Tony said, “I would really _like_ to not be here, but. . .” He shrugged.

Steve’s lip twisted up angrily. “Why don’t we start with that? He never takes anything seriously.”

“You take everything _too_ seriously. You never just let things _be_.”

“Oh, like you’re any better! You and your ego are so convinced that you can fix everything, _including things that don’t need to be fixed_ , that you just end up making everything worse!”

“You always do this!" Tony said, leaning forward in his seat. "Turn everything around and blame it on me, it must feel _amazing_ to be so _convinced_ of your own _self-righteousness!_ ”

“I’m not convinced of anything anymore. Not of you, not of myself. _Nothing._ ”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh, _bull_. You always act like you’re suffering more than anyone else — I feel like I keep having to remind you about Barnes!”

“You did the same thing with Strange! Peter’s _doctor—_ ”

“I’m sorry, how is that _worse_ than you fucking Peter’s ‘Uncle Bucky’? And that only happened _months_ after what you did—”

“So that makes it okay?”

“I was _lonely_ , and _hurt_ , and he _gave a fuck_ , unlike you!” Tony suddenly laughed sharply. “Oh, I’m sorry, you _did_ give a fuck, just not, you know, to me.”

“Oh, would you just—”

“Alright!” Ms. Williams said loudly. “If we could all just calm down—”

“Actually, I think we’re done here,” Tony said acidicly, standing up. “I’ll just show myself out.”

“No, wait, Tony . . .” Steve let out a breath and looked to the counselor. “Can you just . . . give us a minute alone, please?”

She looked between them. “Can I trust that you two won’t become violent?”

“We’ve never . . . hurt each other like that,” Steve said quietly. After a moment, Tony nodded in confirmation.

She looked at them each in turn before walking out. The couple watched each other before Steve said, “We’re not coming back to counseling, are we?”

Tony shook his head. “Don’t think there’s much of a point.”

They stared at each other. After a minute, Steve said, “We’re really not good for each other anymore, huh?”

Tony laughed harshly. “No, we’re really not.”

Steve smiled softly. “I have missed you, y’know.”

Tony returned his look. “I know. I miss you too, sometimes.”

Steve leaned back in his chair, looking out a window thoughtfully. “You know, I think I was so caught up in missing you that I forgot that we don’t really do anything but fight.”

“Oh yeah, I missed that.”

Steve chuckled. “Is it . . . serious? With Strange?”

After a moment, Tony said, “I think it could be. And I guess you never really got over Barnes, huh?”

“I thought I did. For a long time, even before you and I got together, I thought I did. But I guess . . . some things never change.”

Tony nodded carefully. “Yeah. We never really did either. Probably our problem.”

“Yeah, probably. So I guess we need to . . . file for divorce.”

Tony nodded. “Guess so.”

“We’ll have to tell Peter.”

“We can do it this weekend. I’ll try to get him to talk to you more. I know he’s missed you, but he doesn’t really want to say it. Doesn’t want to . . . hurt me.”

Steve laughed, a gentle expression on his face. “You were always his favorite.”

Tony shook his head. “No. Well, not always. You were better with the sports stuff.”

“You’re better at helping him with school. Plus, you read to him more. He loved that.”

Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, what can I say. I do better voices.”

“You really do.”

They smiled at each other once more before Tony said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Steve gave him a sad look. “Goodbye, Tony.”

Tony opened the door, looking back at his husband. “Goodbye, Steve.”


	5. Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating sooner, but I was, y'know, moving from Alaska to Florida, so you can't blame me. Enjoy!

Tony stood quietly by the door while Stephen spoke to Peter. His son’s eyes were red from crying, but apart from that, he was holding himself together well. Tony couldn’t tell if, on some level, Peter had known this would happen or if he just hadn’t fully accepted it yet.

If Stephen was aware of the tension in the room — or of Steve watching him from his chair — then he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled and said, “Alright, Peter, you are officially ready to leave.”

For the first time since they broke the news, Peter smiled. “Really?”

“Yes. You just need to sign some papers, get your stuff, and you’re free.”

“Thanks, Dr. Strange.”

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Cheekbones,” Tony said with a sly smile, which he promptly dropped when he saw the look Steve gave him. Regardless, Stephen returned Tony’s smile before leaving. Once he was gone, Tony said, “Steve?”

Steve, who’d already started to get Peter’s stuff together, looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you mind coming over tonight? We have a lot of stuff we need to figure out.”

Steve shifted awkwardly before nodding. “Yeah, sure. Pete, are you good with that?”

Peter nodded, his brief happiness gone already. “Don’t worry about it. I already promised Ned I’d stay the night at his house as soon as I was out of the hospital, anyway.”

“Oh. Okay, then, that’s . . . good.”

_Someone, put him out of his misery._

It didn’t take long for them to leave. They turned in any and all paperwork they had to do and went outside without seeing Stephen again. Tony almost wanted to look for him, but he didn’t think that was a good idea with Peter around. Tony sat in the car and listened as Peter and Steve said goodbye. Steve was fidgeting, which seemed to be his natural state these days. “We should meet up sometime this week. You could come over. I’m staying at Sam’s house, you know.”

Peter was staring stonily at the space behind him. “Sure.”

Steve sighed. “Peter—”

“I have to go, dad. I’ll talk to you later.” Without waiting for a response, Peter turned and opened the passenger door, sliding into the car and closing it.

Once they were a fair distance from the hospital, Tony said, “Peter . . . you don’t need to be so . . . _distant_ with Steve, okay? He’s trying to make things better.”

Peter looked stubbornly forward. “I don’t care. He hurt you.”

“I know, but it’s more complicated than that.”

“No it’s not. Not to me.”

“What is it with you? You’re so goddamned hot and cold. ‘I hate him, I want them to get back together, I hate him again, oh’.”

Peter’s face scrunched up in an unamused scowl that Tony had to keep from laughing at. “I wanted him to fix it. He hurt you. He ruined everything. He should be the one to fix it, but he didn’t.”

Tony sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Peter . . . some things can’t be fixed. This is one of them.”

“Aren’t you an inventor? You always say anything can be fixed, or _better_.”

“ _Things_ , Peter. Things make sense. This . . . doesn’t. _People_ don’t make sense.” When Peter didn’t respond, Tony just let out a breath and said, “C’mon, I’ll drop you off at Ned’s house.”

“I can—”

“You’re not driving. Not right now, you’re just . . . you’re not.”

After a moment, Peter said quietly, “Alright. Thanks, dad.”

Tony smiled tiredly. “Anytime, kiddo.”

* * *

 

Steve and Tony sat across from each other at the dinner table. Tony couldn’t even remember the last time they had dinner together as a family.

 _It was awkward. It must have been. It always was in the last few months. Even Peter could tell._ Their son had been so much more quiet than normal. It was unnatural.

Tony seriously considered opening a bottle of wine, but even he knew how bad of an idea that was. Instead, he said, “We have a lot of shit to figure out, okay, so let’s just try to get through it without breaking anything.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Steve said with a hint of a smile. Tony tried to return it, but it came out more pained than anything.

“Alright, first thing’s first because when the fuck else would it be, we need to talk about Peter.”

“Well, he’s eighteen now. Do we really need to figure out custody?”

“Not legally, but I want it out of the way.”

“Okay. I’m good with shared custody. Your house one week, mine the next?”

Tony arched a brow. “You’re living with Sam. You don’t _have_ a house right now.”

“You know what I mean.”

Tony sighed. _Fuck, this is exhausting._ “Yeah, that’s fine. Actually, I wanted to to talk to you about the house.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Right. I don’t want to argue with you about that, if you want the house—”

“Take the house, Steve.”

His soon-to-be-ex stared at him. “What?”

“I’m serious. You’ll just have to pay property tax, I don’t want you to have to worry about rent or buying a new place. Not that you could in this economy, but—”

“You don’t have to do that, Tony,” Steve said softly.

Tony let out a breath, looking down at the table. “It’s fine, Steve. I’ve already thought about it. You’re the one who wanted to live in the suburbs anyway. It’ll be nice to be back in the city, anyway. And don’t start on that bullshit about how we’re _technically_ still in the city, okay? I don’t give a fuck.”

Steve nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“Good. I’ll start looking at apartments. As soon as I find one, the house is yours.”

They spent over an hour talking about everything they needed to — assets, bank accounts, taxes, work, custody, holidays. As the night wore on, a headache began to build behind Tony’s eyes. By the time they were done, he was almost ready to kick Steve out.

Luckily, he didn’t need to. Steve was as ready to leave as Tony was to see him leave. Steve said in a clipped tone, “Goodnight.”

“Bye,” Tony snapped back, shutting the door behind him. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in and headed straight for the wine rack. He didn’t look for anything specific beyond ‘red’ and poured himself a glass.

The house was quiet. Not even in a creepy way. Just in a sad way that reminded him of how alone he was. He almost wished Steve was back in the living room watching his dumbass rom-coms. Or better yet, that Peter was there, doing his homework with half of his head and watching a superhero movie with the other.

He hadn’t even finished the first glass before taking out his phone and pulling up Stephen’s number. There were a few texts, telling him about Stephen’s surgeries, but not much otherwise. He didn’t know if Stephen was busy, or even if he was still at the hospital, but without thinking, he called him.

The phone rang three times — long enough for him to wonder if this was a good idea — before Stephen picked up. “Tony?”

“Hey, Stephen. Are you doing anything right now?”

“Not really. I just left the hospital. I’m actually in the car right now. Are you alright? You sound strange.”

Tony smiled. “Strange, huh?”

“Don’t.”

“Kill joy.” He took a sip of wine. “Do you want to . . . come over? I know it’s kind of out-of-the-blue, but I could really use someone to talk to.”

Stephen was silent for a few seconds. Then he asked, “Where do you live?”

Twenty minutes later, Stephen was standing in his kitchen, pouring them both a fresh glass of wine. He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable, rather acting as though he’d always been there, as though he belonged there.

Stephen handed Tony his glass and raised his on to his lips. “So, it’s happening? You and Rogers are getting divorced?”

Tony nodded. “Yep. Told Peter today. It’s why he was so upset earlier.”

“Is he going to be alright?”

“Yeah, he just . . . needs time. He’ll be okay.”

Stephen watched him, his eyes set on the column of Tony’s throat. “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I think so. I’m better, honestly. We talked about it, and we decided that we’re just . . . better apart. Better to amputate a limb than to let it rot and infect the body.” Tony laughed, feeling slightly buzzed from the wine. “God, I’m such a fucking drama queen.” _Steve used to think that was funny. Once._

Stephen shrugged. “Well, you’re not _wrong_.” Before Tony could retort, Stephen raised his glass with a smile. “To new beginnings.”

Tony eyed him. “Are you serious.”

Stephen moved the glass closer. “Do it.”

“Ugh, fine.” Tony bumped his glass against Stephen’s. “To new shit.”

“Cheers.” They both drank, though while Tony was looking down at his glass, Stephen watched him over the rim of the glass. As soon as Tony finished, Stephen moved, taking Tony’s cheek in one hand and pulling him closer, licking his lips. Tony froze, staring at his eyes. Stephen sighed contentedly. “You taste sweet.” Then his tongue was inside Tony’s mouth, and his hands were moving over his face and chest, and Tony responded in kind before he even knew what he was doing.

At some point, they moved to the couch. Tony was sitting on Stephen’s lap, pressing their mouths together and using Stephen’s hair to move him how he wanted. Stephen laughed happily, holding Tony by the thighs and pulling him closer.

Stephen stopped for air after a minute, watching Tony pant through half-lidded eyes. “ _God_ , I want to fuck you so bad.” Then he pulled Tony back to him.

Tony was working his hands under Stephen’s shirt when he heard the door open. “Hey Dad, Ned got into an argument with his mom and she said he couldn’t have anyone over, so she dropped me back off—”

Peter stopped dead in his tracks, standing in the doorway to the living room and staring at Tony and Stephen, who were frozen on the couch. Then Tony said, “Hey. . .”

Peter continued staring.

“You know,” Stephen said, sitting up, “it’s late, I should probably go home. . .”

Tony shot up, stumbling to his feet. “Yeah, you’re probably . . . that’s a good idea.”

Stephen stood up and left, awkwardly waving at Peter and Tony as he did. It was only after he closed the door that Peter started to react. “Dad? Was . . . was that Dr. Strange?”

Tony sighed, sitting back down on the couch. “Yeah.”

Peter shuffled over, seeming almost shell-shocked as he joined his father on the couch. “Is this your way of getting back at dad? Because that’s—”

“No, Peter, it’s not that.”

“Then why?”

“Honestly? I like him. He’s kind and intelligent and witty.”

Peter laughed humorlessly. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.” He was rocking slightly, reflexively, trying to regain his balance. “This is really happening, isn’t it? You guys are getting divorced. It’s over.”

Tony nodded. “It is.”

Peter sucked in a breath, his eyes trained on the floor. “I just . . . I can’t believe . . .” His voice cut off as he started to cry.

“Oh, Peter,” Tony said softly, immediately moving to wrap his son up in a hug. “I know that this is very hard for you. It’s hard for all of us.”

“I don’t— I don’t understand,” Peter stuttered. “How did this happen?”

“I know, I know. Peter, your father and I . . . aren’t bad people. We just . . . don’t work well together anymore. And that’s okay. It’s sad, and it hurts, but it’s okay.”

Peter didn’t respond. They just sat in silence, both of them wondering how it ended up like this.


	6. Curious

These days, Tony almost spent more time at Stephen’s apartment than his own house. Whenever Peter was at Steve’s house, hanging out with a friend, or visiting his aunt and uncle, Tony headed straight to Manhattan. It got to the point where he didn’t even bother calling anymore. Even when Stephen wasn’t there — which was often since being a neurosurgeon didn’t come with the most reasonable hours — he was welcome to go over anyway. “It’s hardly a _burden_ , Tony,” Stephen said with a smirk. “I like coming home to you in my bed. In fact, I think it should happen more often.”

They were both at the apartment this time. It was almost the middle of November, and Tony was complaining about how difficult it was to plan their holidays now. “We can barely be around each other for ten minutes, never mind an entire day.”

“What are you going to do about Thanksgiving, then?” Stephen asked, filling their cups with boiling water and setting a tea bag in each.

“We’re trying to figure that out. I thought about having a big dinner with him and all our friends over like we usually do, but even Peter knew that was a bad idea, so now we’re thinking of just scheduling dinner at different times of the day so Peter can go to both.”

“Wow, two dinners. Lucky kid.”

Tony smiled. “Yeah, well, it’s still a pain. Especially since they have Sam and Steve, and they were usually the ones who did most of the cooking.” He accepted the finished cup of tea with a silent ‘thank you’. “I’ll figure it out. What are you doing?”

“What, for Thanksgiving?”

Tony nodded.

Stephen shrugged. “I’ll probably be at the hospital. Holidays are always hell. Not enough doctors.”

“Oh.” Stephen didn’t explain further, but now that Tony thought about it, he couldn’t remember Stephen ever mentioning his family. And he rarely talked about his friends, though Tony knew he had at least a few, like Christine and Wong. But Tony had never met them, didn’t know how close they were. “Why don’t you have dinner with us?”

Stephen stopped with his cup halfway to his mouth. “What?”

Maybe it was a bad idea, but Tony pushed on. “You could have Thanksgiving with us.”

“Why?”

That look and tone of genuine bafflement was almost enough to make him backtrack, but Tony Stark was never the type to give up. “Because I want you there.”

Stephen set his cup down, seeming uncertain for the first time since they met. “Is that a good idea? I can’t imagine Peter would be happy to have me there.”

“He likes you.”

Stephen scoffed. “He did when I was just his doctor. I sincerely doubt he does now that he knows we’re having an affair.”

“It’s not really an _affair_. I’ll be divorced soon, so really we’re just dating.”

Stephen gave him a _look_. “Fine. We’ll go with that. Still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Tony said. “Might be a good idea to . . . test the waters first.”

“Right.” Stephen seemed to calm down some, sipping his drink.

“Good. New plan, have dinner with us Saturday.”

Stephen choked. “What?”

“Just me and Peter. Although if Saturday’s not good for you, we could do Sunday, or maybe Tuesday. Not Monday though, that’s a shitty day for it—”

“Tony, slow the fuck down. Why do you want to do this? Why do you think this is a good idea?”

“Because I like you. And I care about you, and I care about Peter, and I want you two to know each other. Is that enough of an answer for you?”

Stephen sighed, avoiding Tony’s gaze. Finally, he looked straight at Tony and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Tony repeated, grinning.

Stephen looked at him in annoyance before saying, “Yes, okay, let’s have dinner with your son.” Before Tony could do anything, Stephen added, “But that doesn’t mean anyone’s going to be happy when it’s over.”

* * *

“You’re doing what?”

Stephen looked at Christine over the top of his sandwich. “Having dinner with Tony and his son this weekend. Keep up, Christine.” Really, first time he got to eat all day and all anyone did was ask stupid questions. _Tony would not waste my time like this._

Christine sighed and drew her hand around the table, seeming almost uncertain. “Stephen . . . do you think that maybe this is going too far?”

He looked at her, eyes squinting in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it was one thing at first, ‘cuz I thought you’d care for a week and then get over it like you normally do—”

“Excuse me—”

“But now I’m starting to worry.”

“I’m an adult, Christine, I know what I’m doing.”

She gave him like he was an idiot (which he _really_ hated) and continued, “How can you think this is a good idea? He’s a _married man_.”

“He’s getting divorced.” He didn’t sound defensive, because he didn’t _need_ to. He was entirely in the right.

Christine ‘hmmed’. Stephen almost thought that was the end of it before she said, “I’m serious about this, you know. Are you seriously willing to . . .” she looked around before lowering her voice, “to break up a family.”

Stephen looked at her with annoyance. “Excuse me. I’ll have you know that that home was already wrecked before I got involved.”

Christine sighed. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“I plan to.” Seeing that she was still worried, Stephen smiled and bumped her shoulder. “Really, Christine. It’ll be fine. _I’ll_ be fine. It’ll be a walk in the park.”

* * *

It was not a walk in the park.

From what Stephen had seen, Peter was energetic, carefree, and easy to talk to. So far tonight, he had been quiet, tense, and just generally unhappy. He never spoke of his own accord, instead replying to his father’s questions with one or two word answers while half-heartedly eating his pasta.

After a few, incredibly awkward minutes of this, Stephen turned to Tony. “So, how was work?”

It wasn’t his most clever conversation starter by far, but Tony went with it. “It was good. I’ve actually started plans for a new project.”

“Really? What is it?” Peter glanced at his father, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m trying to design a new type of A.I. Not the kind there is now that just regurgitates stuff from dumb people on the internet, but something that can think and have emotions.”

“Is that a good idea? Maybe I’ve just watched too many movies, but I don’t particularly want to live in a post-apocalyptic society ruled by robots.”

“Well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. How’s the hospital?”

Stephen shrugged. “It was okay. Nothing particularly interesting.” He rolled up some spaghetti, considering. “Well, there was one guy, a meth addict, whose drugs sort of . . . exploded on him. It was interesting. Part of his shirt actually melted _into_ his skin. They had to get rid of all his dead skin off his back then take some more from his legs and put it . . .” He looked at Tony and Peter, both of whom were starting to look queasy. “On second thought, this might not be the best topic for dinner.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Tony said, setting his fork down and reaching for his water. They lapsed back into awkward silence.

After a minute or so, Stephen noticed Peter staring at him. Before he could say anything, Peter burst out, “I can’t do this, I have to say something.”

“Peter,” Tony began, but was quickly cut off.

“No, it’s okay, dad,” Peter said, immediately turning back to the doctor.

Stephen straightened his back and carefully controlled his expression before nodding. “What do you want to say, Peter?”

Peter stared at him. He noticed for the first time Peter’s eyes — large, brown, expressive. Just like Tony’s. “This . . . this has been a really hard month, okay? This has been a hard _year_. And everything’s different, and everything’s changing, and I feel like we keep getting hurt, and my dad keeps getting hurt, and I . . . I . . . just tell me you care. Say you won’t hurt him. _Promise_ you won’t. Because we can’t keep doing this. It’s too much. So just . . . do this.”

Almost subconsciously, Stephen looked at Tony. He took in the appearance of him, his eyes, his laugh lines, his soft hair, everything. He thought of the past month, of how quickly and easily they had become friends and lovers. He thought of how incredibly easy it was to imagine a future with him. And he realized that his decision was already made.

Stephen turned back to Peter and said, “Peter, I promise that I won’t hurt your father. And I have no intentions of leaving anytime soon.”

Peter let out a breath, some of the tension draining out of his body. “Good. Thank you. That makes me feel a lot better.”

Smiling, Stephen twirled some spaghetti around his fork. “Now, what were you saying about your science project earlier?”


	7. Take Me In

“Need some help, Tony?” Stephen asked.

Tony looked up at him sharply. Stephen was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen and dining room, looking around the kitchen with a mixture of horror and fascination. Which was fair. It looked like a tornado had torn through, throwing around food, knives, cutting boards, and grocery bags. “No. I’m good.”

Stephen rolled his eyes and took off his coat, folding it over a chair. “Of course you are. How about I get started on the turkey and you handle the potatoes?”

Tony looked around helplessly. “Actually, we don’t have a turkey. There were none left when I remembered to go to the store. There’s a ham, though.” He looked around. “I don’t know where it is.”

Stephen stared at him for a moment before saying, “Right. Do you have _any_ idea what you’re doing?”

“Y’know, I thought I did, but then I remembered that Steve usually handled all of . . .” he gestured towards the mess, “this.”

Stephen searched the fridge and cabinets, bringing a semblance of order to the kitchen. “Why isn’t Peter helping you? When I got here, he was on his phone.”

“Well, he _was_ helping, but I sent him away so he wouldn’t have to see my shame.”

“Makes sense. Ah!” Stephen pulled something out of a cabinet triumphantly. “Found the ham!”

* * *

After a while, they managed to get on track making dinner while Peter cleaned the house (or at least the parts that guests would see). “So,” Stephen said, “who all is coming over?”

Tony looked down at the mashed potatoes. They were lumpy, but edible. Probably. “May and Ben were going to, but they ended up going to Michigan instead for their cousin’s birth or funeral, something like that. So it’s just us, Peter, Pepper, and Rhodey. You met them.”

“Yeah, for two minutes.” Stephen had briefly spoken to Pepper and Rhodey when they visited Peter at the hospital. “Do they know I’m here?”

“Um. . .” _Shit._ “I mean, I’m sure I mentioned it at some point. I just don’t remember when. Or how much I actually said. So that should be interesting.”

“Oh, great,” Stephen said, rolling his eyes.

Before he could say anything else, Peter bounded into the room. “Hey, dad, I finished cleaning, can I get on my computer now?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Peter started to leave before suddenly remembering something and turning back on his heel. “Oh, also, I was talking to other dad, and I thought you should know that James is having dinner with him and Sam.”

“What?” Tony said, his head jerking up. “Rhodey’s supposed to come over here—”

“No, not uncle Rhodey, the other James. Barnes.”

“Oh.” Tony sighed. “You don’t have to call him that for my sake, Peter. It’s fine. Really. I’m past it, he’s past it, we’re all past it. Right, Stephanie?”

Stephen looked at him with a completely unamused expression. “First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, I’m only tangentially connected to . . . ‘Bucky’, I think, so—”

“See?” Tony said, waving Stephen away. “We’re all past it.” Tony was surprised to realize he meant it. He barely felt anything at all thinking about Barnes, or even Steve, except for a sort of bitter-sweetness. And even that had begun to fade. “I don’t mind that they’re together. I’m happy, they’re happy, we’re all happy.” _Happier than we were two months ago. Happier than a year ago._

Peter probably wouldn’t have believed him if it weren’t for the small smile on his face. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be in my room.”

“Don’t break anything.” Peter rolled his eyes before leaving. “And get the door when Rhodey and Pepper get here!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Stephen gave him a faux-sympathetic look, said, “Teenagers,” then laughed when Tony smacked him with a towel.

* * *

It was half-past three when someone knocked on the front door. “I’ve got it!” Peter shouted, running down the stairs.

“Remember to open the door!” Tony said, laughing at Peter’s sigh.

Stephen looked at him strangely. “Is something wrong with the door?”

“No, but sometimes Peter runs headfirst into glass doors without realizing it. It’s hilarious. I actually have a video of him doing it a bunch of times on my phone. I’ll show it to you later.”

“Dad, Pepper’s here.”

Tony handed Stephen the pie pan he’d been working with. “Be right back, gumdrop.”

“Never call me that again.”

“What _can_ I call you?”

“My name.”

“Boring.” He made his way to the living room, where Peter was helping Pepper with her coat.

“And for the last time, that’s _aunt_ Pepper to you, young man,” Pepper said. Her smile widened when she saw Tony. “Hey, Tony.” She immediately pulled him in for a hug. “How are you doing?” she asked softly.

Tony just smiled. “Never better.”

“That’s great.” She looked around, as though expecting someone to jump out at her. “So, is Steve here?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “No. He’s at Sam’s house with Bucky this year. And probably next year, unless we can get over our insatiable need to tear each other’s eyes out every time we look at each other by then.”

Pepper laughed. “I assume you’ll need my help with dinner.”

“I’ll have you know that we have everything under control.”

“Sure you do. Just point me to the disaster area.”

“Ha ha.” He realized a moment too late that Pepper was headed to the kitchen. “Wait— shit.” Well, he’d wanted to do a dramatic reveal with the door and everything, but that wasn’t going to happen. He followed Pepper, standing behind her as she stared at Stephen, who was obliviously messing with the pie filling.

Pepper stepped forward. “Who—”

Tony cut her off. “Pepper, this is Stephen Strange. You know, Peter’s surgeon?”

“Oh,” Pepper said. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you.” She gave Tony a look before holding out her hand. “I’m Virginia, but Tony _insists_ on calling me Pepper.”

“He does have a habit of assigning nicknames to people,” Stephen said, shooting Tony an amused look. It was at that point that Tony remembered there was something else he should probably mention to Pepper.

“Oh, by the way, Pepper, Stephen is also my boyfriend.”

Pepper stares open-mouthed at Stephen while he groans. “ _Really_ , Tony? You couldn’t even _try_ to be tactful?”

“No. You okay, Pep?”

Pepper shook her head, pulling her hand back after absently shaking Stephen’s. “Yeah, I just . . . didn’t realize you were already moving on.”

Tony grinned playfully. “Well, what can I say? He’s a hot doctor. I couldn’t resist.”

“Oh, please,” Stephen said with a shake of his head. “Just help me with desert.”

“Yes, sweetums.” He shared a look with Pepper. “Men. They’re just the worst.”

Pepper bit back a laugh and returned to the living room, looking back at them.

“One down,” Tony said cheerfully, sneaking his hand towards the edge of the pie dough.

Stephen smacked his hand.

* * *

“Okay,” Tony said as they finished setting dinner on the dining table, “Rhodey’s here.”

“So that’s everyone?”

“Yes. _But_ , and I’m not saying this to scare you—” Stephen arched a brow— “he is kind of . . . protective. So expect to have to answer some questions. Just remember to stand your ground.”

“I love that you’re just now telling me about this.”

“I forgot to mention it.” Before Stephen could retort, Tony opened the door to the living room. “Dinner’s ready!”

Soon, everyone was seated around the dining table. The room felt a little empty with only half the people they normally had, but no one seemed to care. Steve wasn’t there to make them pray, so instead Tony said, “Everyone, thank you for coming to dinner. I know we’ve had a really . . . I don’t want to say a bad year, but it’s been kind of a bad year. But I think that makes it all the more important that we remember to be thankful for what we have. So let’s all just take a moment to do that now.” He made everyone close their eyes to think of what they were thankful for, ignoring the eyerolls that were sent his way.

 _Peter. Pepper and Rhodey. Not having to bite my tongue every day so I don’t start an argument, then start one anyway on accident._ After a moment, he added: _Stephen._

“Well, glad that’s over,” Tony said, opening his eyes and clapping his hands. “Let’s eat!”

* * *

The food actually came out well, surprisingly. Tony almost wants to text Steve and be smug about it, but that sounds like a one-way ticket to a fight, and he doesn’t want to ruin what’s been an otherwise pretty good day.

It doesn’t take long for Rhodey to start sizing Stephen up, judgingly watching him eat his cranberry sauce. Peter, bless him, manages to keep the conversation directed away from them for a while by rambling on about his favorite tv shows, his new video game, and the science project he was working on. But even Peter couldn’t talk forever, though he may try. Eventually he got caught up with eating, and Rhodey immediately took his chance. “So, Stephen, Pepper told me you’re a doctor?”

“Neurosurgeon,” Stephen said calmly, cutting his meat. “That’s how we met; I was Peter’s surgeon after his car accident. In fact, I think we met briefly when you came to visit Peter one day. He was very happy to see you.”

“Hm.” Rhodey was unimpressed. “So, how long have you two been together? Can’t be very long. Peter was only in the hospital for six weeks. And he’s only been out two.”

Stephen chewed his ham, looking forward thoughtfully. “Oh, about a month. Not very long, but I’ve grown quite attached.” He smiled at Tony, who, in return, shot a ‘dude, go easy on him’ looky to Rhodey. Rhodey ignored him completely.

“So you’ve met Steve, then? You must have, at some point.”

Stephen nodded. “We’ve spoken. Mostly about Peter.” He shrugged. “Not my favorite person.”

“Yeah, not mine either. Hasn’t been for a while now. Because Tony’s my best friend, you know. Have been since we were in college.”

“I know, Tony told me.”

“Rhodey,” Tony said.

“It’s fine, Tony,” Stephen assured him. “I don’t mind.” He looked at Rhodey. “Please, feel free to ask me anything you like.”

Rhodey did just that, asking Stephen every question he could think of while the rest of the group spoke around them and occasionally listened in. No matter what Stephen said, Rhodey never seemed satisfied. But eventually he ran out of questions to ask. Now, he settled his hands onto the table, slowly closing and opening his eyes. Everyone waited to see what he would say.

“You know, Steve was my friend, _our_ friend,” Rhodey seemed more tired than upset. “I liked him. I _trusted_ him. I always did. But now he’s gone, and he hurt my friend, and I don’t want that to happen again. So just know that I’m going to be keeping an eye on you to make sure it doesn’t.”

“I expect nothing less,” Stephen said with a slight smile.

“Good.” Rhodey returned his smile. “Keep expecting it.”

* * *

“But why can’t I have any dessert?” Peter whined.

Tony handed him the bag that he’d almost forgotten. “Because they’re going to have plenty of food there, and I’m not going to listen to your dad complain about how I sent you there on a full stomach, got it? Besides, Peggy makes better pie than me anyway.”

“Well, that’s true,” Petter said, shrugging at the offended look Tony gave him. “What, you said it.”

“You didn’t have to _agree_ ,” Tony said, opening the door. Steve was already outside in his car, waving at them. Tony waved back before returning his attention to Peter. “And be nice to Bucky when you see him, okay? Or at least _polite._ ”

“ _You’re_ not polite to people,” Peter muttered.

“I’m an adult. Suck it up, buttercup.” He pulled Peter in for a hug, quickly letting him go. “Be good.”

“No promises,” Peter said, jogging down the steps and to the car. He waved goodbye as Steve drove away. It was only when he couldn’t see them anymore that Tony went back inside.

Pepper, Rhodey, and Stephen were gathered in the living room, watching TV. “So,” Tony said, “who wants to play Cards Against Humanity?”

* * *

“You’re a horrible person,” Tony said as he and Stephen got ready for bed.

“I won, didn’t I?” Stephen said.

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

“Just whatever soul I had left. So, not much really.”

Tony laughed, happily falling into his bed. “God, I want to sleep for a thousand years. I had way too much ham.”

“And pie,” Stephen added helpfully, resting beside him. “And cranberry sauce. And potatoes. And—”

“You can stop now.” He looked up at his boyfriend, who was smiling at him from the second pillow. He couldn’t help but feel how _right_ it seemed for Stephen to be there, beside him. It was like he’d always been there but Tony just hadn’t noticed.

Before he could embarrass himself by saying this out loud, Stephen turned off the lamp and burrowed his head into the pillow. “Good night.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, staring at him. “Good night.”


	8. Palm Dreams

“I have no idea what to get Peter.”

Tony readjusted his phone, cursing when the roll of wrapping paper he was holding somehow ended up halfway across the room. “You don’t have to get him anything. He won’t mind.”

“Be serious, Tony. This is _important_.”

Tony was caught between rolling his eyes and laughing. “Just get him a book or a video game or something. He’s not picky. And between me and Steve, he is going to get _way_ more than he needs this year, trust me.”

“I want to make a good impression.”

“Relax, he already likes you. Or at the _very_ least, he’s resigned to your presence.” Stephen groaned. “Hey, that’s not nothing.”

“What are the plans for Christmas, anyway? What time should I be there?”

“Well, you’ve got Christmas off, right?”

“Yes. Everyone had a fit when I told them, but I know how important this is to you.”

Did his heart just flutter? Was it supposed to do that? Should he see a doctor? “It’s just going to be me, Steve, and Peter for Christmas Eve. Then I’ve got Peter for Christmas, and he’s with Steve for the twenty-sixth.” The corner of his mouth hitched up in a half-smile. “Lucky bastard gets _two_ Christmases.”

“Careful. Don’t want to spoil him.”

“I do what I want.” How come whenever he tried to cut wrapping paper, it never did the gliding thing? Ridiculous. “As for time . . . I’d kind of prefer if you came by the night before.”

“I have to be at the hospital on the twenty-fourth—”

“I know, but you can still come by after you get out. You can let yourself in, I don’t mind.”

After a beat passed, Stephen said, “Alright. I’ll be there.”

“Can’t wait. Oh, and don’t get Peter anything too big, like a phone or computer, alright?”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s already getting both of those.”

“ _Spoiled_ ,” Stephen said in a sing-song voice.

“Hey, you can criticize my parenting techniques when you have a child of your own and not a minute sooner.”

“Like a wise man once said, ‘I do what I want’.”

Grinning, Tony said, “Aw, you think I’m wise?”

“Goodbye, Tony.”

Before Tony could say anything, Stephen hung up the phone. “Killjoy.”

* * *

Tony was _so_ fucking glad that they decided not to do Christmas day together. _Jesus._ The past sixteen hours were some of the longest in his life. The entire day was spent either resisting the urge to strangle Steve or complete silence. Except when it was silent, it was awkward, and Peter noticed and felt it, and then he felt _bad_ , so they had to start talking again and pretend to be happy, and _God_ , he was so tired.

The bed felt wrong empty, but he was exhausted enough to not care. He slept soundly for a while, but woke up when someone got into the bed. He blinked tiredly at the newcomer.

“Sorry,” Stephen said, settling in behind him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Mm. It’s fine. What time is it?”

“About two thirty.” Stephen wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist, pressing a few soft kisses to his neck.

At first, Tony smiled, but when he looked back at Stephen, he could see that there were dark circles under his eyes and exhaustion etched into his features. “Are you alright?”

“Long day,” Stephen said quietly. “I’ll be better in the morning.” He kissed Tony again, his temple this time. “Rest. You need it.”

He almost wanted to stay awake and talk, but he had a long day and it was Christmas in the morning, and everything else could wait.

* * *

“Awesome!” Peter said, excitedly holding up the DVD set he’d just unwrapped.

Stephen smiled at him. “You like it?”

“It’s great!” Peter was on something of a dinosaur binge after seeing the trailer for _Fallen Kingdom_ , so a set of the three original _Jurassic Park_ movies could not have come at a better time.

Tony shook his head in amusement as Peter turned on the first movie while also using his new phone to listen to music and his laptop to facetime Ned.

Once Peter was well and settled into his technology cocoon, Tony turned his attention to Stephen. “Is it my turn, now?”

Stephen rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Yes, it’s your turn.” He handed Tony a thin blue blag. “Merry Christmas.”

Tony took the bag eagerly, wasting no time in pulling out the tissue paper and pulling the gift out. “Oooh.” It was an old-fashioned vinyl record. Tony immediately recognized it as AC/DC’s _Back in Black_.

Before he could do anything else, Stephen said, “You were telling me about how you had a record collection when you were a teenager, but they all got ruined. I thought this would be a good thing to get you back into it.”

Tony frowned in an exaggerated, over-the-top way. “But I don’t have a record player anymore.”

“It’s aspirational. One day, you will own a record player.”

“Oh, so you got me a record _and_ a dream.”

“Yes. You’re welcome.”

Grinning, Tony leaned forward and pulled Stephen into a kiss. “I love it,” he said softly. He carefully set the record back in its bag before picking up a box from under the tree. “Now it’s _your_ turn.”

To be honest, Tony was somewhat worried that his gift wouldn’t go over. It was a beautiful watch, with a gold case and black leather band. Perfect for Stephen’s collection. That’s not what he’s worried about. It’s the engraving he chose that has his skin prickling as he watched Stephen open the box.

Tony watched as Stephen carefully lifted the watch out of its box, admiring it. “It’s beautiful.”

He started to put it on, but Tony stopped him, holding his hand. “Turn it over.”

Stephen looked at Tony curiously before doing as he said. He stared at the inscription with an unreadable expression.

_How long will I love you?_

_As long as you let me._

_— T. S._

For a minute, Stephen just sat there, looking at the watch with a completely blank expression as Tony grew increasingly anxious. Then he looked up and said, “I love you too.”

Tony let out a breath of relief. “Don’t hold me in suspense like that, fuck.”

In lieu of a response, Stephen moved closer to Tony on the floor, drawing him into his arms and kissing him. The kiss started out gentle, but quickly deepened. In seconds, they were pressed as close together as possible, their hands in each others hair. They might have stayed that way if they didn’t hear, “Oh, yuck.”

Tony broke the kiss, turning his attention to Peter, who was looking at them with the disgusted expression of a child seeing their parents make out. “Really, guys? In front of the Christmas tree?”

Tony stuck his tongue out at him.

* * *

Later, after Peter had left for Sam’s house, Stephen and Tony lay in bed together, Tony’s back to his chest as Stephen lazily played with his hair. “This was a good day,” Tony said absently.

Stephen smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Good.”

“Are you happy? Not just from today, but with me?”

“ _Very_ happy.” Tony burrowed farther into his pillow, content, but Stephen kept watching him with a loving, thoughtful expression.

“Have you found a place to live yet?”

Tony shook his head. “No. I’m trying to find something in Manhattan.”

“I know a place,” Stephen said quietly.

It took Tony a moment to realize what he meant. When he did, he turned around, looking back at Stephen. “Are you serious?”

“I am.” Stephen pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s lips. “Move in with me, Tony.”

Tony stared at him for a minute. “We’ll have to talk to Peter about it. But I want to.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Tony pushed Stephen to the bed, straddling his waist and grinning. “Let’s do it.”


	9. This Side of Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the next chapter is the last one, so enjoy, I guess?

“So, can I have a room at the apartment?” Peter asked, taping up the box of Tony’s books.

Tony nodded. “Stephen said you could have the guest room. It has a good view of the city.”

“Cool. Can I decorate it?”

“Depends. You’ll have to talk to him.” Tony finished packing up the box he was working on. _There_ , he thought, looking at the room. “We’re done.” The room wasn’t completely empty — there was still the furniture and all of Steve’s stuff that had been relieved of the closet — but everything of his was gone, in boxes or already at Stephen’s house. “We should put this stuff in the car.” He wondered idly what Steve would do with his workshop now.

It didn’t take them long to fill up the car. Once they were done, Peter got in the car immediately, but Tony stopped, staring at the house. He was surprised by how sad he felt — he’d lived there eighteen years, through birthdays and holidays and anniversaries, but he didn’t think he’d miss it at all.

Now . . .

Peter knocked on his window. “Dad, come on!”

Tony snapped out of his reverie. “Hold on.” He looked away from the house and slid into the car.

* * *

 

Stephen was standing in the garage when they pulled in. He was dressed casually, but he seemed to have put more effort into his hair that morning. He immediately smiled when he saw them, standing by Tony’s door as he opened it. “Hey. Did you get everything?”

Tony nodded as he got out of the car. “Yeah. Can you help us carry this stuff?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “No Tony, I was going to watch as you carried it all yourself. I am just that inconsiderate of other people.”

Tony looked at him. “So no, then?”

Stephen sighed and walked around to the trunk, opening it. Between the three of them, it only took two trips to get everything upstairs. They separated the boxes out between the kitchen, the living room, the office, and Stephen’s bedroom. Before they started to unpack, Stephen showed Peter his room.

Tony was right — it had an excellent view. From their floor, they could see the East River, along with so many of Manhattan’s towering skyscrapers and the roads and people below. At night, there would be shining gold and orange against the black. And the room itself was slightly bigger than the one Peter had at the house, especially when the closet was taken into account.

Peter leaned his head in, looking around.

“Do you like it?” Stephen asked.

Peter smiled. “It’s great. Can I paint it?”

Before Tony could reprimand his son, Stephen said, “Of course. Just nothing too hideous.”

“How do I know if it’s too hideous?”

“If you look at it and find yourself wondering, ‘Will Doctor Strange think this is too hideous?’, then it is.”

* * *

 

The three of them spent most of the day together, just watching TV, eating snack food, and being lazy since they had the day off. But eventually, Tony had to get ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” Stephen asked. Peter was already in his room, talking to MJ. Tony and Stephen had been watching a movie, and Stephen’s attention was still half on it as Tony pulled on his coat.

“Going to meet Steve.”

Stephen looked up, his attention fully directed towards Tony now. “Is tonight . . .”

Tony nodded.

“Oh,” Stephen said quietly. “Do you want me to go with you?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. Better than fine. In fact, I think I might get a milkshake afterwards. You know, to celebrate.”

Stephen’s lips quirked up in a half-smile. “Bring me back a smoothie if you do.”

“Ugh, you health nuts disgust me.”

“You’re worse, you just pretend you aren’t.”

Tony refused to acknowledge that.

* * *

They met at their lawyer’s office. It was dark, with only one weak light, and oddly silent. Tony would have preferred privacy, but they needed her as a witness.

Steve sat across from him at the dark wood table, leaning his head on his hand as he looked down at the papers. Tony studied him for a minute. He had a new haircut, and was starting to grow out a beard. It suited him. There was a strange look in his eyes; Tony couldn’t tell if he was sad or relieved, or just accepting. Either way, neither of them considered pushing the papers away. Neither of them considered walking away.

Steve looked up at him. “You ready?”

Tony nodded shortly. “Yeah. Of course.” He gestured at the papers. “You first.”

Steve turned to the papers, letting out a breath before picking up a pen. His hand moved steadily across the paper, writing his name in neat, clean black letters. When he was down, he set his pen down and simply stared at his signature for a moment before passing the papers over to Tony.

Tony set his hand on the top sheet of paper, searching for his line. It was at the bottom, just below Steve’s. He closed his eyes, pressing the palms of his hands against them.

“Tony?” Steve asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tony snapped. He picked up a pen and quickly signed his name, ending with an exaggerated flourish. “There,” he said quietly, setting his hands on the table. “Finished.”

They sat in silence for a moment before their lawyer moved forward. “I’ll take this,” she said, gathering up the papers. “It needs to be filed. I’ll . . . leave you to yourselves.” She left, closing the door behind her.

Steve and Tony stayed where they were for several minutes, simply looking at the table. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Steve stood and walked over to him. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Tony’s temple. “Goodbye, Tony.” He walked outside, and after a while, Tony followed suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a short chapter, and that's because there was originally going to be another part at the end, but I felt like it broke the flow of the overall fic and felt kind of awkward. So I decided to cut it altogether, which I feel kind of bad about since the next chapter is the last one, but it is what it is.


	10. Wild and Wicked World

Tony helped Peter fix his tie. “Are you ready?”

Peter nodded seriously. “Ready.”

“Do you have your speech?”

Peter pulled a small stack of index cards out of his suit jacket. “Got it.”

“Did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Nine hours.”

“Respectable. Did you eat anything?”

Peter shook his head. “I couldn’t, I was too nervous.”

“Unacceptable. I have a baggie of apple slices and some peanut butter dip, you can eat it in the car.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay, dad.”

“I also have some vitamin waters if you need it.”

“Calm down, Tony,” Stephen said. He was standing in the doorway, watching them with an amused expression. “You’re only going to make him nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Peter insisted, though his voice came out squeakier than normal.

Stephen smiled good-naturedly. “Of course not. Do you have your cap and gown?”

“In the car. We’re going to put them on at school.” The past five months had been surprisingly calm, all things considered. Tony and Peter had settled into Stephen’s apartment well, Peter was accepted into M.I.T. (which Tony still bragged about at every opportunity), and in March, Steve and Bucky announced their engagement. And Tony was happy for them. Honestly, truly happy, for them and for himself since he’d recently bought a ring of his own and was just waiting so that he didn’t steal their thunder.

And now Peter was graduating.

Stephen looked at him while they walked to the car, Peter jogging ahead of him. “Are you . . . crying?”

“No,” Tony snapped, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Just tired. Not enough coffee.”

“I think you mean not enough sleep.”

“I meant what I said. We should swing by Starbucks on the way. I’m gonna get a mocha. Peter, we’re going to Starbucks, do you want a cupcake? Nevermind, stupid question, of course you want a cupcake. What kind?” Tony walked faster to catch up with Peter, Stephen shaking his head as he followed.

* * *

Despite going out of their way to stop for Starbucks, they were still early. As soon as they walked into the school, Peter was swept away by Ned and MJ to get ready with the others. Stephen was actually confused about that for a moment because he’d been caught up in his latte and wasn’t paying attention. Tony just laughed and led him to the auditorium. It was decorated in the school colors of blue and gold, with lights, ribbons, and balloons. The stage was lined with chairs for the graduates while the guests sat in the rows of seats. The entire room was incredibly crowded already; Tony wasn’t sure if everyone would even fit. Luckily, the administration had the precaution of allowing each student a limited number of guests and giving them papers to reserve seats.

While they were looking for their seats, someone tapped Tony on the shoulder. He jerked, turning around. “Oh. Hey, Steve.”

Steve was standing about a foot away, dressed smartly in his navy-blue suit. “Hey, Tony. Stephen.” He held up a box wrapped in black-and-gold foil paper. “We brought Peter’s graduation present. We were going to give it to him afterwards. Do you mind if we come by to your apartment?”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll make it a party.” After a moment, he asked, “Wait, who’s ‘we’?” Then he noticed something. “Oh. Hi, James.”

Tony realized that it had been almost a year since he had seen Bucky Barnes in person. He was shifting uncomfortably, standing a little way behind Steve and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Hey, Tony. It’s . . . it’s good to see you.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, sure, let’s go with that.” He waved his boyfriend forward. “James, this is Stephen Strange, my boyfriend. Stephen, I’ve told you about James.”

Stephen and Bucky awkwardly shook hands while all of them silently agreed not to acknowledge what exactly Tony had told Stephen. “Pleasure to meet you,” Stephen said.

“You too,” Bucky said, taking back his hand. “Steve told me you were Peter’s doctor after the accident?”

Stephen nodded. “I was his neurosurgeon. He had some damage to his arm and leg, but he’s recovered now, thankfully.”

“Yeah. I actually wanted to thank you for that. I know I haven’t been super involved in Peter’s life lately, but I still think of him as family.”

Stephen stared at him, seeming slightly stunned. “I’m glad to hear that. Peter is . . . he’s like a son to me. It’s nice knowing that whatever happens, he has people looking out for him.”

A sort of awkward silence settles over them all before Tony says, “We should really sit down, it looks like they’re getting ready to start.”

Steve nodded sharply. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” It was kind of funny how Steve immediately started to herd them all towards the seats, and even funnier how everyone subconsciously went along with it.

They were a few rows back, not quite at the front, but close enough. They sat with Bucky on one end and Tony on the other, just in case. Once they had all sat down, Tony took out his phone, turning off the noise and opening the camera app. “I’m ready,” he said, dead serious.

Stephen smiled and kissed his cheek. “I know you are, babe.”

* * *

They were joined by May and Ben Parker soon after that. They barely had time to greet each other before the graduation ceremony began and everyone quieted. The students walked through the room to the stage in subdued silence, dressed in blue caps and gowns with shiny gold accents. As soon as Peter came out, Tony started snapping pictures. He only stopped in favor of recording once all the students were on stage and sitting down.

There was a lot of stuff to get through — the principal’s speeches, administrators speaking, another student talking — before Peter stood up and walked to the podium. He was nervous, sweat beading at his brow, but he smiled. Drawing his breath, Peter held up his note cards and started to speak. “Hello, everyone. I’m not really good at starting off speeches, so I’ll jump right into the good stuff. Things are changing; we’re graduating, leaving school, and becoming adults. And that . . . is really scary.” He chuckled nervously, evoking a laugh from the audience. “But change is necessary. And it can sometimes be . . . really good. So when you leave tonight, look forward to the future, look forward to change, and try to make it good.” He looked out over the room. “That’s it, that’s all I got.”

Tony sniffed as he belatedly realized he was crying. Stephen noticed, smiling as he passed Tony a tissue.

Tony got the last laugh, though. Stephen cried when Peter got his diploma.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me @incorrect-ironstrange on tumblr.


End file.
